


Almost Okay

by Strange_Fascination



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Complete, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Omega Dean, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14265732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strange_Fascination/pseuds/Strange_Fascination
Summary: Dean has spent the last fifteen years without a mate, and will likely die if he does not find an alpha soon. Desperate times call for desperate measures. But can the relationships in his life survive such a thing?COMPLETE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prior to writing this fic, I had a strong dislike for ABO dynamics. I challenged myself to write an ABO fic that I myself would not mind reading. In doing so, I have developed a higher opinion of the trope. It's still not my favorite, but you guys definitely have my respect. This stuff is not easy to write. 
> 
> Also, I'm not entirely sure when this story would take place. The math places Dean's age around 28, which would be season two. But they already know Cas in this story, and Cas has limited powers. So I dunno. Just roll with it. LOL.

Dean was 13 years old when he experienced his first heat. It took him a day or two to realize what was happening. When it dawned on him, he considered killing himself. Of course, his father, an alpha, had already sensed it. He had bought the appropriate medications—painkillers, hormone suppressants, scent suppressants, etc. He handed them to Dean and asked if he needed anything else. 

“No.” Dean lied. “I got this.” 

“I’m gonna be gone on a hunt the next few days.” John replied. “I know it can be painful. Try not to scare Sam.” 

“Yes, sir.” Dean replied. He sensed his father’s discomfort, but also his disappointment. He expected his sons to be alphas, like him. Having a son who was an omega would undoubtedly be a weakness. 

Indeed, they would have to do their best to plan out hunts around his heats. They typically fell right around the 26th of each month, and lasted four days. He could work through the first and last days, but the two in between were unbearable. They consisted of Dean lying in bed, sweating through the sheets, gritting his teeth until his jaw hurt to avoid crying out. 

Those were the days he truly felt useless. 

John never complained about the situation. He simply worked around it without any acknowledgement. 

Then Sammy came of age. They all should have seen it coming. The way he was always butting heads with John. Two alphas would always have friction in close quarters. 

The fact that Sam was an alpha and Dean an omega was something that would leave Dean with a sick feeling in his stomach. John and Sam would often plan small stuff to do during Dean’s heats—usually simple salt-and-burn jobs. Something they could do without Dean. Of course, this was logical, as Dean couldn’t work at the time. And it was uncomfortable for everyone if they were around him during his heat. But Dean also couldn’t shake the feeling that they avoided him for another reason: shame. They didn’t want to see him so weak and pathetic. It was unbearable to live it. It must have been unbearable to witness. 

So Dean did everything he could to make it up to them. He followed orders unquestioningly. He became faster and stronger with each passing day. He may be useless two to four days out of the month, but the other twenty-six, he was a force to be reckoned with. He was a lean, powerful monster-killing machine. He refused to let biology stand in his way. 

________________________________________ 

Until fifteen years later. 

________________________________________ 

“Bobby! Thank god.” Sam was clearly panicking on the other end of the line. Bobby knew only one thing could cause that tone in Sam’s voice. 

“What’s wrong with Dean?” 

“I—I don’t know, Bobby.” Sam replied. “He’s in heat, but it’s bad. Really bad. Nothing’s working. Not the pills, nothing. It’s never been like this.” 

“Bring him over.” Bobby said. “We’ll figure something out.” 

“I told you not to call him!” Bobby heard Dean shout. “Just let me fucking die!” 

“We’ll be there in about two hours.” Sam said before hanging up. 

_________________________________________________ 

A few minutes later, Dean was laying in the back seat of the Impala, slick with sweat and hurling into a bucket every few minutes. 

“Why the fuck would you drag Bobby into this?” Dean tried to shout, but it just came out as a weak groan. 

“I’m not gonna let you die, Dean.” Sam said. “Bobby will know what to do.” Sam opened the windows and turned on the air. The pheromones were making his head buzz, and he was ready to lose his lunch, too. Years of practice made it easier to ignore, but whatever Dean was going through was supercharged, and biology really didn’t give a damn about family relations. 

“I know you can’t stand the smell of me. Just leave me on the side of the road.” 

“Quit being melodramatic.” Sam replied. It was going to be a long ride. 

__________________________________________________ 

Sam was nearly ill himself by the time they made it to Bobby’s. He needed Bobby’s help to carry Dean to the safe room. 

“What are we gonna do, Bobby?” 

“You’re gonna go take a walk,” Bobby instructed. “Get some fresh air and get your head together. I’ve been doing some research. There’s a few things I’m gonna try.” 

Sam gave his brother’s shoulder a squeeze before heading outside. As a beta, Bobby couldn’t really smell the pheromones too strongly, but judging from the state Dean was in, both boys must be going through seven types of hell being stuck together through this. 

“Just let me— “ 

“If you ask me to let you die, I’m gonna string you up, boy.” Bobby cut in. “Idjit. Now I looked up a few things. I gotta know some stuff.” 

Dean vomited again, and Bobby waited for him to finish. 

“You okay?” 

“Peachy. What did you need to know?” 

“How many years have you been going through this without a mate?” 

“About fifteen.” 

“FIFTEEN YEARS!?” Bobby couldn’t hold back his surprise. “Good lord, boy. That—that’s. Damn. I always assumed you were a really late bloomer. You are one tough sonuvabitch.” 

“Not so tough now, huh?” Dean looked like he was about to hurl again. 

“Well, I got some supplies here.” Bobby took out a few IV bags. 

“Where’d you get that stuff?” 

“The less you know, the better.” Bobby grunted. “It’s some saline solution, and some of those hormone suppressants. Maybe they’ll work intravenously.” 

Dean nodded. But he could tell by Bobby’s tone of voice that he doubted it would work. A sudden shot of pain went through Dean’s body, and a scream escaped his lips. It was about twenty seconds before it subsided. 

“Bobby, we both know how this is gonna go down.” 

“Shut up.” 

___________________________________________________ 

Dean was passed out on the mattress in the safe room when Sam came back from his walk. 

“How’s he doing?” 

“Sam, we may not have a lot of options.” Bobby looked grave. 

“What do you mean?” Sam’s eyes were filled with a kind of wild panic. 

“We need to find him a mate. And soon.” Bobby replied. “I don’t know how he went this long without one.” 

Sam shook his head. “No. He always said he would never mate. He’s been adamant about that.” Sam said. He and Dean didn’t talk about it much, but on the rare occasions his heats were really bad, Dean had made it quite clear. “I thought you had some things to try.” 

“That was before I knew how long he’s been without a mate.” Bobby replied. “Everything I’ve read on the subject says the same. Ten, maybe twelve years an omega can live without a mate. But beyond that…Sam, if we don’t find him an alpha soon, he’s going to die.” Bobby gave Sam a pained look. “I’m sorry, son.” 

“There has to be something else, Bobby. There has to be. I can’t just find some random alpha and ask him to rape my brother!” 

“Then start praying.” 

“Praying!” Sam exclaimed, realization dawning on his face. He ran outside. 

__________________________________________________ 

“CAS!” Sam screamed up to the sky. “CASTIEL!” 

This went on for about a minute before he heard the shift of wings. 

“Cas!” Sam called out, relieved. “Cas, it’s Dean.” Sam briefly explained the situation. 

“Is there anything you can do?” 

Cas looked down. “I’m afraid not,” the regret in Cas’s voice was almost palpable. “It’s no longer in my power to do such things.” 

“No, no.” Sam seemed to visibly sink upon losing his last hope. He allowed himself to cry for the first time since this started. “No, Cas. There has to be something you can do.” He gripped Cas’s coat weakly. “Please, Cas.” 

“I’d like to see my friend,” Cas said, gently pulling himself from Sam’s grip as he began to walk inside. He turned around. “Sam…I am sorry.” 

________________________________________________ 

Dean was barely conscious. Pale and sweating, he was curled in on himself in a fetal position. The occasional groan made its way out. He saw Cas and let out a weak stream of profanity. 

“Well, it’s just a damn party now, isn’t it?” 

“Dean,” Cas touched his friend’s shoulder comfortingly. “I wish there was something I could do.” 

“Hey, when it’s your time, it’s your time.” Dean managed a weak smile before the pain ripped through him again. He couldn’t suppress a scream. Cas held a cool cloth to his friend’s head. It did literally nothing to help, but Dean appreciated the gesture. He wouldn’t admit he appreciated it, but he did. 

“Is there no hope of finding you a mate?” Cas asked. Dean glared at him. 

“I’d rather die.” 

“You can’t mean that.” Cas said gently. 

“I’m not gonna be some alpha’s weak little bitch, begging for it!” Dean winced as another shot of pain went through him. 

Cas didn’t respond. He simply wet the cloth again and placed it back on Dean’s forehead. 

_____________________________________________ 

“He’s asleep.” Cas answered the unasked question as he entered the kitchen and sat at the table with Sam and Bobby. 

“We can’t just sit around waiting for him to die.” Sam shook his head. It was clear he had been crying. “We can’t.” 

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done,” Cas said. Sam gently pounded his head with his fist, as though trying to force the ideas to the surface. It must have worked, because he suddenly screamed. 

“Aha!” Sam jumped up, slapping the table in triumph. “Why didn’t I think of this before?” 

“What is it?” Bobby asked. 

“Cas! You mentioned once that Jimmy Novak was an alpha.” 

“That is true.” Cas replied, “but you can’t be suggesting—“ 

“Cas, you could do it! Couldn’t you?” 

“Sam, Dean does not want to mate. He’s made that quite clear.” 

“I don’t CARE!” Sam screamed. “I’m not going to let his fucked up inferiority complex kill him!” 

“I thought you were against someone mating him against his will,” Bobby said. 

“But Cas isn’t some random stranger,” tears welled in Sam’s eyes. “He…he’s really dying, Bobby. And I can’t lose him. Not like this. Please, Cas. He’s my brother.” 

“I will suggest the idea to him,” Cas conceded. “But I will honor his wishes.” 

_____________________________________________ 

Dean didn’t think it was possible for him to laugh in the state he was in at the moment, but he did. And not just a small chuckle, but a full-on belly laugh. 

“Oh, that’s a good one, Cas.” 

“I’m being serious.” Cas replied. “We feel you should be presented with all options, as…undesirable as they may seem.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, Cas, you’re a damn catch,” Dean barked another laugh that turned into a pained groan. “But I’m not about to become anyone’s bitch.” 

“You complete asshole!” Sam snapped. “After everything we’ve been through. After all of it, you’re just gonna lay down and die when there’s another way?” 

“Sam, calm down.” Cas said gently. 

“No! No, I won’t calm down!” Sam was screaming through his tears. “Have you even thought about any of us? Thought about what this will do to me?” Sam’s voice suddenly went softer, weaker. “Dean…I can’t. I can’t just watch this happen. Would you be able to watch me, if it was reversed? Could you?” 

“Sam…I can’t.” Dean had tears in his eyes for the first time. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” 

“Are you so obsessed with some outdated notion of masculinity that you’re willing to die for it?” Sam asked. “Seriously?” 

“It’s easy for you.” Dean said, his teeth gritting through the pain. “You were the alpha. The one who didn’t have to sit it out once a month. He didn’t look at you the way he did me.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” Sam asked incredulously. “Because of DAD? You’re seriously letting our fucked up childhood dictate this?” 

“Sam, I’ve made my decision!” 

“Fuck This!” Sam’s face hardened. “Cas, just take him!” 

“I won’t.” Cas held his ground. “I won’t do that.” 

“We can worry about the morality of it later. At least he’ll be alive!” 

“I. Won’t. Do. That.” Cas repeated, his voice nothing short of dangerous. “Don’t ask me again.” 

“You know what, Dean?” Sam turned to his brother, fire in his eyes. “Every time we went out without you, I could tell he wished you were there. ‘Hard to believe he’s an omega, the way he fights.’ Dad would say.” 

“You’re making that up.” 

“You know I’m not.” Sam looked Dean dead in the eyes. “Maybe he didn’t say it to your face, but he certainly said enough behind your back. ‘Dean won’t let anything stop him. Damn near dead one day, and ready to hunt the next.’” Sam mimicked their father’s voice all too well. “Why do you think I left? It didn’t matter that I was an alpha. Hell, he probably expected more from me because of it. But I was always the weak little brother. The one he got stuck doing the easy jobs with for a couple of days, until he could have his favorite little soldier back again.” 

“Dad never mentioned my status, or my heats. Ever.” 

“Not to you, he didn’t.” Sam replied. “Listen, he was kind of fucked up, okay! I mean, I know we both loved him. Still do. But he wasn’t father of the year. And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let his shitty parenting take you from me!” 

Before Dean could reply, he was suddenly taken by a wave of pain. He jackknifed in on himself, holding his stomach. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He seized up over and over again, as wave after wave of agony overtook him. 

“Dean!” Sam ran to his brother side, hands going to either side of his brother’s face. “Dean, please! Let Cas do this. Please.” 

It was several minutes before the pain subsided. Dean looked different afterward. He looked hazy, and his eyes took on a defeated quality as they locked with Sam’s. Sammy. His biggest weakness. _Take care of Sammy. Always take care of Sammy._

“Okay.” Dean said, barely a whisper. “Cas. Do it.” 

_______________________________________________ 

“There isn’t much time.” Cas said softly to Bobby, so the brothers couldn’t hear. “It may already be too late.” 

“Do what you can.” Bobby said, giving Cas a clap on the shoulder as he left the safe room. Sam followed him out. 

“Take care of him, Cas.” 

Cas nodded, closing the door behind them. He turned to Dean, his stomach in knots. There wasn’t time to second-guess this. He strode over to Dean, removing his coat and shirt as he walked. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Dean said softly, using the last of his energy attempting to turn over on his stomach. “Don’t look at me.” 

Cas knew he had to act quickly. He helped Dean out of his jeans, then turned him on his stomach as he asked. He took a deep breath, taking in Dean’s scent. 

Then instinct took over. 

________________________________________ 

The next few minutes were a frenzied blur of teeth, thrusts, and scent. Cas vaguely heard Dean’s screams, and answered with his own. He intuitively knew these were not screams of pain, nor even of pleasure. Just pure release from the act being performed. When it was over, Dean laid limp beneath Cas. For a horrifying moment, Cas thought the worst, but then realized Dean had just passed out. 

Cas zipped up his pants, and, shaking from exertion and the thrum of hormones coursing through him, managed to cover Dean with a thin sheet before slumping in the chair next to the bed. An entirely different scent hung in the air. Dean no longer smelled the same, nor did he himself smell as he did before. Their scents had mingled, permanently changed. 

They were bonded. 

He sat next to his friend for several minutes. He couldn’t decide if it would be worse to be there when Dean woke, or to be gone. Before he could determine what to do, Dean began to stir. 

“Cas?” 

“I’m here.” Cas rested his hand on Dean’s back. 

“You okay?” 

“Me?” Cas was taken aback by the question. Certainly his own safety wasn’t a concern. “I’m fine. How are you?” 

“Alive.” There was a look on Dean’s face Cas couldn’t place. It wasn’t quite defeat, nor resignation. Nor was it mere sadness. 

_Loss._ Cas realized. It was a look of total loss in his friend’s eyes. And Cas had put it there. 

_What have I done?_ Cas stared down at his friend, tears pooling in his eyes. _What have I done?_


	2. Chapter 2

Sam and Bobby both stood up as Cas came into the kitchen. 

“Is he okay?” Sam asked. Cas didn’t know how to answer that. 

“He survived.” Cas decided to settle for that. “He needs rest. Water. Something to eat.” 

“He’s hungry?” Sam asked, a small smile making its way to his lips. Dean was never hungry during his heat. In fact, that was the only time he didn’t eat non-stop. “That—that’s great! I mean, you know.” 

“Yes, I know.” Cas replied. 

“Cas, thank you. Thank you so much.” Sam went to hug him, but Cas stopped him with a hand to his chest. Sam looked at him, a little puzzled. 

“Don’t thank me for that.” Cas said. “Just…don’t.” 

Bobby went to the fridge and took out a few bottles of water and what appeared to be leftover beef stew. 

“Tell him to eat it slow.” Bobby instructed as he handed it over to Cas. Cas just nodded. As he made his way back to the safe room, Sam followed him. Cas stopped. 

“Sam…I think it unwise for you to see Dean at this time.” 

“Oh.” Sam looked down. Part of him understood that Dean likely needed his space, but another part of him needed to see for himself that his brother was okay. 

“I need your help organizing the supplies.” Bobby said. He really needed no such thing, but it was a good excuse to get Sam out of the house. “You can see Dean later, when he’s feeling up to it.” 

“Right.” Sam said, seeing right through Bobby’s lie, but going along with it anyway. “Okay.” 

______________________________________________________ 

Dean was halfway through the second bottle of water before he spoke.

“I usually begin around the 26th.” He said, attempting to sound all-business. “I can make it to the 27th or 28th before I…before I’ll need you.” 

“Dean…” Cas tried to find adequate words. There weren’t any. “I’m so sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” Dean couldn’t meet Cas’s eyes. “I told you to do it.” 

“We both know you didn’t have a choice.” Cas’s voice was tortured. 

“I did.” Dean said simply. “I could have died.” 

“That isn’t a choice.” 

“It is.” Dean said. “And I chose to stay here, for Sam. And now I’m alive. So it’s done.” 

“Dean--” 

“Just forget it, Cas!” Dean said, an edge to his voice. “It’s done. It’s over. It is what it is. So let’s just get on with it.” 

Cas nodded. “I will make arrangements to be here at the appropriate time.” 

“Good.” 

There was a long pause. 

“Listen, Cas. I’m okay now, and I’m pretty tired.” 

“Understood.” Cas went to touch Dean on the shoulder, then thought better of it. Without another word, he vanished from Bobby’s house. 

____________________________________________________________ 

“Dean?” Sam slowly walked into the safe room. “How you feeling?”

“Not now, Sammy.” Dean turned his head toward the wall. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” 

“Do you need anyth--” 

“I’m fine, Sam!” Dean snapped, still not facing him. 

“Sam,” Bobby stood at the doorway. “Take a walk.” Sam swallowed hard, nodded, and left the room without another word. 

Bobby sat next to Dean in silence for a few minutes.

When he finally spoke, his words were soft and even. “Nothing about what happened today was okay.” He said. “Nothing. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t damn glad you’re alive.” 

“I think I’d take death right now.” Dean continued to have his back turned toward Bobby, but it was clear in his voice he was fighting tears. 

Bobby considered him for a long moment. “Your father never told you this, so I’m going to. You are not weak, Dean. Far from it. And your biology doesn’t define you. It never will. And you never need to feel ashamed of it.” 

Dean didn’t move or respond. 

“God knows I’m no expert on this shit,” Bobby said. “Hell, I’m the last person to be giving advice. So I’m not going to. Just know that I’m in your corner. Always have been, always will be.” 

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean said, barely above a whisper. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you, son.” Bobby gave Dean a quick pat on the shoulder as he got up to leave. “But I’m not sorry you’re still with us.” 

__________________________________________________________ 

Dean slept for a few more hours. When he woke up, he knew what had to be  
done. He took a shower, got dressed, and looked at himself in the mirror.

_Suck it up and keep moving._ He grabbed his jacket and headed out to face the world. 

“Dean, how are you--” 

“Sam, do me a favor.” Dean said shortly. “Don’t ask me how I’m doing, how I’m feeling, or if I need anything. I’m fine. Period. Got it?” 

“Yeah, you certainly sound fine.” Sam shot back sarcastically. 

“I’ll live.” Dean snapped. “We’ve wasted enough time here. We should get moving.” He turned to Bobby. “Thanks for everything, Bobby. We’ve gotta be heading out now.” 

Bobby regarded Dean for half a second before extending his hand. “Always.” He gave both boys a hug. “See you around.” 

As much as Dean appreciated everything Bobby had done, he simply couldn’t stay in that house another second. He wanted to put some miles between himself and the scene of the…incident. And fast. 

They rode in silence for about half an hour before Sam spoke up. 

“I know you’re pissed about what happened, but--” 

Dean hit Baby's brakes so fast her tires squealed. 

“Dean! What the--” 

“You listen to me.” Dean said dangerously. “You have absolutely no fucking idea what is going through my head right now. So don’t even try to fucking PRETEND to get it, okay?” 

“Dean, please let me--” 

“No. You do not get to talk about this. Ever. I know why you did it, okay? I get why you and Cas did what you did. But I do not owe you anything. I don’t owe you an explanation, or closure, or some fucking Oprah Winfrey moment, got it?” 

“I’m not going to apologize for saving your life. Hate me all you want, but I am so happy that you are alive to hate me.” 

“Eat a bag of dicks, Sam.” 

__________________________________________________________________ 

A salt-and-burn, a vampire nest—same old, same old. The more Dean worked, the easier it became to push the incident from his mind. Things even returned to some semblance of normal between him and Sam. It was about 90% an act—just going through the motions of normalcy. A snarky comment here, a shared beer there. But it was a start, and all Dean had to hold himself together.

It fell apart on the 26th. Dean knew it was coming. He could practically set his watch to his heats. But that didn’t make it any easier when he felt the first pangs in his lower abdomen when we woke up. Sam smelled it, of course. 

“Huh.” Sam gave a curious little noise as he squeezed toothpaste on his toothbrush. 

“What?” Dean asked, giving his shirt the sniff test as they got ready to leave the hotel room in search of whatever was leaving travelers strung up inside out on the side of the road in the thriving metropolis of Bishop, California (population 3,000). 

“It…well…” Sam knew he needed to tread carefully. He used the excuse of brushing his teeth to give himself time to think about how to say it. He spit, then, “Well, it’s not as strong as usual. I’d always heard it’s easier…you know…after. But it’s a lot easier than I expected. I can barely feel it.” 

Sam waited for the hammer to fall. But Dean just shrugged. 

“Yeah, well I’m marked territory now.” They barely met each other’s eyes before looking away, then gave the familiar, awkward chuckle they had used for years when the subject came up. The idea that some primal part of Sam’s brain wanted to jump his brother’s bones was always weird, to say the least. It was never uncontrollable, but it was just enough physical and emotional discomfort to put everyone on edge. At least that was over now. 

“Dean, someday maybe we could talk about it? You talk, I mean. I’ll listen.” Again, he waited for the explosion. But Dean didn’t respond at all. 

He cocked his gun and put it in his waistband. Then, with more bravado than necessary, “Let’s go kill us a …whatever the fuck this thing is.” 

_________________________________________________________ 

A full day of questioning people (as agents Young and Ronson) turned up bupkis. Dean was good at pretending his head was in the game, but in reality, he was dreading the inevitable. He hadn’t seen Cas since the incident the month before. Knowing he would have to see him at least once a month wasn’t a problem—Cas was his friend, and after much consideration, Dean didn’t want to change that. But knowing he would have to submit to his friend regularly was something Dean just couldn’t stomach.

_It could be worse._ He kept telling himself. _It’s Cas. It could have been anybody. At least you can trust Cas._

But as much as he kept repeating this to himself, it didn’t change the fact that he felt an emptiness drop in his stomach every time he thought about it. But there was something else—a small flutter in his chest. Anticipation. And he hated himself for feeling it. 

_It’s just the hormones._ He told himself. _He’s your mate now. You are biologically programmed to want him._ But somehow that actually made things worse. The fact he had absolutely zero say in something so intimate wasn’t just depressing. It was infuriating. Dean allowed himself to be completely pissed off more than a few times this month. Sure, he was angry with Sam for orchestrating it, and Cas was far from his favorite person at the moment. But really, most of his anger was directed at biology itself. He had very little choice in his life—hunting, taking care of Sammy—all of it. And now he didn’t even have a choice regarding who was going to be sticking their dick in him for the rest of his life. 

As if on cue, Dean received a text message from Cas. 

**Time and place?**

Dean thought about it for a moment. His discomfort was mild right now, and Sam could hardly feel anything. If they mated too soon, the urge would build again and it would have to be done more than once in the cycle, and Dean _definitely_ wanted to avoid that. They had to wait until the heat was at least half over. 

**Tomorrow night. 10pm. Bishop, CA. Vagabond Inn, rm 4.**

That feeling came back to Dean’s stomach. He saw a seedy place called Rusty’s not far from the motel. Perfect spot to gather some intel while he numbed himself to the onslaught of crap currently taking up residence in his psyche. 

“I’m going out for a drink.” Or five. 

____________________________________________________________ 

So apparently there had been some more-cunning-than-usual rugarus in the  
area that banded together and convinced a group of teens to worship them  
and offer human sacrifices to their weird backwoods cult.

Gross. 

And Dean had to fight one with a twisted ankle, a headache, all while in heat. Sam offered to drive, and Dean took him up on it, starting to feel more than a little ill. 

“So, uh…Is Cas coming by soon?” Sam asked. A mixture of anger and embarrassment rose up in Dean, but he shoved it aside. 

“Yeah. He’s probably waiting there right now.” Dean realized he probably should have let Sam know they would be having company, but he also didn’t really give a damn about being particularly polite to Sam. 

“Oh. I’ll just drop you off, then. I’ll go hit up that bar.” Sam said simply. 

“You look like hell and smell like a rugaru. Get cleaned up first.” 

“You’ve been to that place. I’ll fit right in.” Sam smiled, and Dean couldn’t help but give a good chuckle in return. 

Dean didn’t get in until nearly eleven, but Cas was waiting patiently in the motel room, clearly trying to follow a reality TV show. The confused look on his face was utterly priceless. 

“Apparently they dress children as adults, and then the children are given scores based on how well they act like adults.” 

Dean tried hard not to laugh as he turned off Toddlers and Tiaras. 

“Um…Sorry I’m late. Rugarus.” 

“I trust your hunt went well?” 

“Yeah. They’re smoke.” This felt odd, talking about his day to Cas, like he had just come home to the missus from the office. 

Dean got cleaned up in the sink, removing his filthy shirt and trying to hide his limp as he walked over for a towel. 

“You’re hurt.” Cas came up to him, and with a touch his ankle healed. The touch did more than intended, however. Dean’s face flushed, his heart rate increased. The touch of his mate while he was in heat was literally irresistible. Cas seemed less affected, though his pupils had dilated considerably. Cas was drawing from his angel power to control himself, the same way he controlled hunger and circumvented sleep. Though this was proving a little more difficult than he had imagined. 

“Dean, I apologize. I should have realized--” 

“It’s okay.” Dean replied. “I mean, that’s why we’re here, right?” Dean walked over to his bed and sat down. Cas looked at him, lost for words. 

“Well, I’m sure Sam would like to come back and get some sleep.” Dean said, pulling off his jeans before laying on his stomach. “Turn off the light. Let’s get this over with.” 

Those same words as last time. They cut Cas to the core. But he turned out the light, stripped off his clothes, and let nature take its course. 


	3. Chapter 3

It was the same the next two months. Sam and Dean would hunt, going about their business. Cas would text Dean on the 26th, and they would meet the following day. 

Until the third month, only a week after his heat. Sam and Dean were following a lead when they came across a simple golden cylinder, about two inches in diameter, with Enochian writing etched in it. There was no getting around it. They needed to call Cas. 

It all was smooth and normal on the surface. Cas welcomed them with his usual, plain “hello.” He asked to see the artifact. They talked about theories as to how an antiques collector in Las Cruces, New Mexico wound up with it. 

“He insists it was ebay, and I didn’t get the impression he was lying.” Sam said. Still, all of the collector’s neighbors, whom he claimed to know and get along with, had perished in bizarre ways. Rather than getting an “off” feeling from the guy, both Winchesters had the impression he genuinely feared for his own safety as well. 

It all seemed so routine. But there was so much beneath it. Pauses were more awkward than they had been in the past. Too-long glances between Dean and Cas, while Sam avoided eye contact a lot more with both men. But they all played it off. Because there is was work to be done. Besides, what would they say? Was there anything _to_ say? 

And so they worked the case. And it seemed almost like old times. Dean driving, Sam shotgun, Cas in the back. The occasional jibe about Sam’s height or Cas’s limited social skills. They spent the bulk of their day questioning people and following leads around town, eventually deciding to call it a day. Sam and Dean, at least, needed to rest. 

They went back to the motel. Sam hit the shower and Cas took the opportunity to talk to Dean. 

“I’m in a room down the hall.” He said, “215.” 

“You…rented a room?” Dean asked, genuinely puzzled. “With what money?” 

“I managed.” 

“But…why?” Dean asked. 

“Just come…Please.” 

Dean considered for a moment, then figured there was no reason he shouldn’t. 

“Yeah, sure. Just let me get a shower and I’ll be right over.” 

______________________________________________________________ 

After taking a quick shower with the minimal hot water Sam left him (what the fuck did he DO in there, anyway?), Dean walked the short distance down the hall to room 215. Cas opened the door before Dean knocked.

“Dean, come in.” Dean noticed immediately that Cas was drinking. Not heavily. He didn’t appear drunk at the moment, nor did it seem to be an overwhelming problem, but an empty liquor bottle in the trash and one half full on the nightstand indicated a certain generalized habit with which Dean was all too familiar. 

“So, what did you need?” Dean asked. 

“I wanted to know some things.” Cas answered. 

“Like…” 

Cas contemplated for a moment. “I want to know things about you, Dean.” 

“Cas, you’re probably the closest thing I have to a best friend. You know more than anyone, except Sam.” 

“But I don’t.” Cas replied. “I know you’re a great hunter. I know you value family and friendships above all else. I know the overarching things that make you great. I know your personality, your wit, your sarcasm. But I wanted to know other things. Small things.” 

Dean looked at Cas, at a complete loss for what to say. Cas was making less sense than usual. 

“Okay, so what do you want to know?” 

“Well, we could start simple. What’s your favorite color?” 

Dean simply stared at Cas for about three full seconds. 

“You called me over here in the middle of a case, at ten o’clock at night, to ask me my favorite color?” Dean asked incredulously. 

“I thought, since we are bound for life, we may want to know each other. In other ways.” 

“No!” Dean nearly yelled, a knee-jerk reaction. “We aren’t a couple. Don’t act like we’re a couple. You’re my friend, and this is an arrangement. That is all.” 

There was a pause. Dean wasn’t sure why he was reacting so strongly, but he couldn’t seem to stem the flow of sudden negativity he felt at the idea. He didn’t want what had happened at Bobby’s to turn into something…something else. 

“I see,” Cas finally said. “I know that our bond wasn’t what either of us intended. I thought perhaps we could make the best of a…less than ideal situation. But if you choose to see me only as a medical treatment to get you through each month, then I will respect that.” 

“Don’t you dare!” Dean practically growled. “Don’t you dare turn this around on me. Like I’m using you. You don’t know what—You haven’t--” 

“I do understand.” Cas’s voice sounded exhausted with pain. “You seem to forget that you are not only bound to me, but I am also bound to you.” Cas paused, finding the words. “I know what happened to you—what we did to you—was unspeakable. And I am not attempting to legitimize what happened. Far from it. But has it occurred to you, Dean, that I didn’t have much choice, either?” 

Dean looked at the angel, realization slowly playing across his face. 

“I also had plans, Dean, and they didn’t involve being bound to you. But this is our reality now. And every month, I feel like I’m….” Cas trailed off. 

“Just say it.” 

“I feel like I’m raping you. Every time.” 

And there it was. The first time either of them had used the word. Not even in their heads had they dared think it. But now it was out there, and there was no going back. 

“Well, you’re not.” Dean said. The thought left him incredibly uneasy. Rape was what happened to women or children, those who are unprotected or in abusive relationships. It didn’t happen like this. Not to people like him. And the thought of Cas being categorized as a rapist was too wrong for him to even contemplate. 

“You are far from willing, Dean.” Cas said, “Your own biology may have coerced you, but it was coercion nonetheless. And once you gave the word, I could not allow myself to watch my friend die.” 

“Well, if that’s true, Cas, then aren’t you just as much a victim as I am?” Dean asked. “Aren’t you also a victim of biology, and my possible death forcing your hand?” 

“I have considered that.” Cas said. “However, there is one other piece to the puzzle. One I feel you should know.” 

Dean felt the hair stand on his arms. What else could there possibly be? Something supernatural about his heat that month? Something Cas couldn’t tell him at the time? Whatever it was, Cas was clearly struggling with it. Dean had never seen him looked so pained. 

“Dean…I…I liked you. Loved you. Before.” 

Dean just stared for a long beat before finding his voice. 

“What do you mean?” 

Cas covered his face with his hands. “’Dean, I never wished to be mated to anyone. As I said, I never planned on it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been in love with you. For some time now. And I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—do anything to hurt you. Not like I did that day. But when I was forced to do so, I’m horrified by what I did, considering my feelings.” 

Dean took a long moment to digest what Cas had just said. Cas had loved him? For how long? And suddenly Dean got almost a montage of Cas—Cas giving him rare smiles, Cas always coming when he called, Cas always standing so close. After only a few seconds, Dean went from being surprised by this revelation to being shocked he hadn’t noticed it before. 

But, no matter what, Dean knew one thing for certain. 

“Cas…you didn’t _want_ that situation. Nobody wanted it.” Dean wasn’t asking a question, but stating a fact. “Whatever you…” Dean swallowed down his feelings at the words, “whatever you may have felt, you were not capable of enjoying that. Your body may have had no choice, but you—Cas—didn’t take any pleasure in that.” 

Dean wasn’t sure when the bottle of whiskey had shown up in the conversation, but both men took a swig, sitting in silence for a few minutes. 

Finally, Cas spoke. 

“Neither of us can mate with anyone else, Dean.” Cas reminded him. “But given the circumstances, I can certainly understand your desire to keep this arrangement purely biological.” Cas was doing a poor job of hiding the agony in his voice. 

Another long pause. 

“Blue,” Dean suddenly said. “My favorite color is blue. What’s yours?” 

“Green,” Cas replied, a small smile upon his lips. 

Dean took another drink. 

“Maybe…maybe we could talk. For a bit.” Dean said. “After all, you did rent the room for the night. It’d be a shame to waste it…and the mini bar.” 

______________________________________________________ 

A few shots in and Dean is more than a little tipsy. They had been exchanging favorite and least favorite things the last hour.

“Favorite music?” Dean asked. “Let me guess. Some ancient choral crap? Hymns?” 

“Actually, I’m a bit of a jazz fan. Cab Calloway, specifically.” Cas replied. 

“Really?” Dean frowned in puzzlement. “I would not have guessed that.” 

“During the space of time between world wars, things were bleak all around, but particularly for minorities in your country. All the outcasts—blacks, prostitutes, homosexuals—they would gather at the speakeasies and would dance together, sing together…They found solidarity, however briefly, in their shared social exile.” Cas explained. “It was…beautiful.” 

Dean was a half beat from a snarky comment, but stopped himself. The idea of Cas finding a certain beauty in a bunch of misfits coming together was, in itself, beautiful. And reminded him somewhat of the small group of misfits they proudly called family. 

“Well, I’d ask favorite food, but I know you don’t eat.” Dean said. 

“I don’t,” Cas replied. “But I am somewhat partial to strawberries.” 

Dean barked out a laugh. “Strawberries?” 

“The scent is quite pleasant.” 

“You’re such a girl.” Dean chuckled. 

“But I’m not.” Cas failed to see the joke. “I’m not really male or female. However, my current vessel--” 

“Cas,” Dean cut in. “Lighten up.” 

Cas smiled at his friend, not completely understanding the humor, but taking it as such. 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean said, suddenly serious. 

“Dean?” 

“I’m glad it’s you.” Dean downed the last bottle from the mini bar before falling back on the bed. 

“What do you mean?” Cas followed suit, his head landing next to Dean’s on the mattress. 

“I meant that I didn’t want it. God knows I didn’t want it,” Dean’s hand fumbled as he slid it into Cas’s. “But if it had to be someone, I’m glad it’s you.” 

Then Dean passed out. 

_________________________________________________________ 

Dean woke up in the room he was sharing with Sam the following morning. Cas must have transported him as he slept. His head was pounding. Those last two shots were probably unwise. The entire evening was probably unwise, if he was being honest with himself.

“Hey,” Sam said, already dressed. “Coffee’s brewing.” 

Dean just grunted in response as he threw off the covers and made his way toward the bathroom. 

“Cas brought you back around three o’clock this morning.” Sam said, clearly just trying to make conversation. His attempts at normalcy were really starting to grate on Dean, especially when he talked about Cas so casually. Like they both didn’t know the subject was a mine field. 

“So, you guys go out on the town or something?” Sam took a sip of coffee. 

“You know what, Sam?” Dean slammed the coffee pot down after pouring himself a cup. “It’s none of your fucking business what we do. In fact, do me a favor and kindly go fuck yourself.” 

“Finally.” Sam sighed. “I was wondering how many times I’d have to bring him up before you finally let me have it.” 

“You mean to tell me you’ve been needling me about this for weeks, just so see when I’d crack?” Dean gave Sam a fire and brimstone look. 

“We can’t keep letting it fester, Dean.” Sam said. “It’s eating away. At all of us.” 

“And whose fault is that, exactly?!” Dean screamed. “We all get to walk on eggshells around each other now because you decided to go play matchmaker!” 

“Matchmaker?!” Sam exclaimed. “You think I did that for kicks?! You were DYING, Dean, or did you forget that little detail?” 

“Funnily enough, I remember having my guts twisted inside-out for a day and a half!” 

“Do you want to talk about this?” Sam asked. “I mean really talk about this?” 

“Fine!” Dean shouted. “Let’s talk about it Sam! Where should we start? The part where you basically told Cas to rape me, or the part where you begged me to let him?” 

“How about the part where I talked you out of dying? Let’s start there!” 

“It was my CHOICE!” Dean roared. 

“It was the wrong one.” Sam threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “I’m sorry, Dean, but between death and rape, rape is definitely the lesser of two evils.” 

“It wasn’t just the one time, Sam!” Dean tried to hold back tears. “It’s every month. Forever. There’s no getting off the Cas train.” 

“I know it’s weird, but at least Cas is a good guy--” 

“It isn’t about Cas being a _good guy_ , you fucking idiot!” Dean shoved Sam. “It’s about me! My body. My life. And now I don’t have a choice. I have to let my best friend stick his dick in me, or we both suffer, and maybe die. And don’t even get me started on what this has done to Cas! When I’m not pissed at him, I feel sorry for him. The guilt is eating him alive, and I can’t even tell him it’s going to be okay, because it’s not. It’s never going to be okay. We are both completely fucked for life! All because you couldn’t let go.” 

“Would you be able to let go of me?” Sam asked simply. “Would you? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.” 

And that stopped Dean dead in his tracks. Because honestly, he probably would have acted exactly the same way. 

“Don’t be too hard on Cas. We were damn lucky he did it.” Sam said. 

“Lucky?! Have you been listening to a goddamn word I’ve been saying!?” Dean bellowed. 

“You’re kinda hard to ignore at the moment.” 

“Then what part of all this,” Dean gestured wildly, “reeks of good fortune to you? Because I fail to see the fucking silver lining here!” 

“Because if he hadn’t done it, then I WOULD HAVE!” 

What followed was the longest, most awkward silence in the history of the Winchester family. 

“I’m gonna just pretend I didn’t hear that.” Dean said softly. 

“I’m not proud of it, Dean, but I would. If it meant saving you.” Sam looked to the ground, tears in his eyes. “God help me, I was seconds away. And even if you never forgave me, it would have been okay as long as you were alive.” 

It was at that moment that Dean realized just how insane their need to protect each other really was. Because, again, Dean wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t have done the same, if it came down to it. Codependency ran through their veins like a venom. 

God, they were so fucked up. 

__________________________________________________________ 

The next half hour was spent in silence. Dean took a shower and met Sam in the car. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Dean finally spoke. 

“Listen, when this case is over, I think we should maybe go our separate ways for a while.” 

Sam just nodded. Honestly, he didn’t know how they had made it this long. 


	4. Chapter 4

The case went sour rather quickly. Cas showed up in the backseat with the Enochian artifact a few minutes later, and told Dean to just keep driving. Apparently the cylinder was actually a crude print press. If one dipped it in ink and rolled it across a flat surface, the writing transferred. It appeared to be coordinates written in Enochian. Some rogue angels were after it. 

“What do the coordinates lead to?” Dean asked. 

“I don’t know that yet, but I have a few ideas. The angel involved is cunning.” 

“Who is it?” 

“Adriel. The angel of destruction. Ever since free will was introduced, he has been seeking retribution for…well, everyone and everything. He and his followers will stop at nothing to restore the fire and fury from the old days. I strongly suspect they wish to create their own army.” 

“So they’re recruiting?” Sam asked. 

“No, Sam. I mean they seek to literally create an army. From nothingness.” 

“How do they do that?” Dean asked. 

“I can’t be sure, but I suspect one of these coordinates may lead to Radueriel.” Cas replied. 

“Rad-a-who?” Dean cursed under his breath as the light in front of him turned red. 

“Radueriel,” Cas repeated. “He is capable of springing other angels into being with a single word. He was moved to an unknown location centuries ago. He would be a most valuable asset to any angel war.” 

“Great.” Dean rolled his eyes. “So how the hell did it wind up with some antiques collector in the ass crack of New Mexico?” 

“No idea.” Cas answered. “But one thing is certain—we can’t let it fall into Adriel’s hands. We have to hide it.” 

“Doesn’t Heaven have some kind of safe deposit box?” Dean asked. 

“Heaven is not safe now. There are too many players. One can’t be sure who to trust,” Cas explained. “What we need is time. A safe place to go until we can figure out where to hide it.” 

“Bobby’s?” Sam asked. 

“It is a fortress of weapons and knowledge.” Cas agreed. “I can think of no other place.” 

“Well, zap us there, then.” Dean instructed. 

In a heartbeat, they were driving down the street to Bobby’s in Sioux Falls. Dean was disoriented for a moment, tapping the brakes instinctively while he got his bearings. They were only about two hundred yards from Bobby’s and it was pouring. Dean hit the windshield wipers. 

“Well, I hope Bobby’s ready for some company.” Sam said. No one else said anything. They were back. Back to where it all started. And Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it. 

___________________________________________________________________ 

Just the short walk from the car to the front door left them drenched. Bobby welcomed them in and offered them beer and towels to dry off while Cas explained the current situation.

“Do they know we have it?” Bobby asked. 

“Uncertain,” Cas replied. “I had to make some inquiries, so I imagine it’s only a matter of time before they do know, if they don’t already.” 

“So they’re gonna come knockin.” Bobby deduced. 

“Most likely, yes.” Cas nodded. 

Sam and Dean remained quiet, Sam looking at the floor and Dean staring at the door to the safe room, a sick feeling in his stomach. Bobby followed Dean’s gaze, an idea occurring to him. 

“Well, let’s keep it in the safe room for now, and ward it against angels.” Bobby took the cylinder from Cas and headed toward the room. He turned to look at his boys, who seemed glued to the spot. “I’ll take care of it. It’s a one person kind of job anyway.” 

“I would help, but--” Cas began. 

“Angel-warding. Yeah. I know.” Bobby said. “I’ve got this. You boys go get changed into something dry.” 

In less than an hour, everyone was clean and dry, and the artifact had been carefully warded. To test it, Cas attempted (and failed) to get into the safe room. 

“I guess that’s the best we can do for now.” Bobby grumbled. Cas nodded in agreement. “Too bad you can’t get in there to get a good look at it while we research how to get rid of the damn thing.” 

“Perhaps I can.” Cas said. “I may be able to write an exception into the wards.” 

“You can do that?” Bobby asked, all curiosity. 

“It’s complex, but I imagine it can be done.” 

“If that’s the case, then why stop at the safe room?” 

“You mean ward the whole house?” Cas asked. Bobby nodded. “I don’t see any reason I shouldn’t be able to do that.” 

Sam and Dean had been sitting quietly at the kitchen table the entire time. 

“Thoughts, gentlemen?” Bobby asked, clearly annoyed. 

“Yeah, do it.” Dean said. “I’m going to bed.” 

Dean began to head upstairs. 

“I’m gonna hit the couch.” Sam said. Bobby was about to say something sarcastic along the lines of ‘thanks for your help’ but decided against it. His boys were clearly having a rough time, and being back at the house wasn’t helping. Bobby tried not to let it affect him, but it stung a bit. He always wanted the boys to see his home as a safe place, but that clearly was not possible anymore after the events that transpired. 

“We should do the warding immediately.” Cas said. “The sooner we protect this place, the better. We do not want a visit from Adriel.” 

“Yeah, you boys get some rest.” Bobby said. “Cas and I can handle this.” 

The rain had let up a bit, but writing the sigils on the damp wood of the house was proving a challenge. It was well over an hour before the warding was finished. Bobby and Cas came inside, mud on their boots and water dripping down their noses. 

“We’ve both earned a beer.” Bobby said as he made his way to the fridge. The two men sat and drank for a few minutes before Bobby finally spoke his mind. 

“Cas, look. I know what’s happened is really none of my business, but I feel like I need to say something.” 

“On the contrary, Sam and Dean regard you as family.” Cas replied. “And this is very much a family matter.” 

“They’ve both been through hell. I don’t need to tell you that.” Bobby took a long sip of beer. “Even without this little incident, they have some serious issues. I know they’re far from okay, especially Dean. None of us wanted this to happen, but now that it has, I just want to make sure…” Bobby struggled to find the words. Another sip and a pause. 

“Cas…please take care of my boy.” 

Cas placed his hand solemnly over Bobby’s. 

“I swear upon my father that I will do everything in my power to care for them. Both of them.” 

Bobby nodded. Then both men went back to their beer. 

_____________________________________________________ 

Both boys slept longer than anticipated. Bobby and Cas researched everything they could regarding the coordinates, quietly as possible so as not to wake them. 

“They haven’t been sleeping well.” Cas said. “It’s been weeks since either have slept through the night.” 

“You’ve been with them all this time?” Bobby asked. 

“I check on them nightly.” Cas replied. “I don’t tell them, though. It makes Dean uncomfortable.” Bobby chuckled awkwardly at this. He couldn’t decide if that was creepy or sweet. Just then, Sam began to stir on the couch. He looked at his watch. 

“Oh, crap! Sorry guys.” He sat up, rubbing his face. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Bobby said. “You didn’t miss anything. We’ve got bupkis. Nothing interesting at any of the coordinates, nothing on Radueriel, except what we already knew. Same with Adriel.” 

Sam pulled up a chair at the table and began looking through what Bobby and Cas had found. 

“Well, have you tried varying projections of these coordinates?” Sam asked. 

Cas and Bobby both just stared at him. 

“Well, it’s possible that the coordinates were made using a different projection.” Sam explained. Continued blank stares. Sam sighed. “Look, the earth is spherical, but maps are flat. So in order to make that transition, there have been hundreds of projections used throughout history. None of them are one hundred percent accurate, but…” 

And so began the half-hour lesson on map projections, brought to you by professor Winchester. 

“Okay, so we will leave all… _that_ to you.” Bobby said. “Maybe you can make some sense of those coordinates.” 

Sam nodded and pulled the laptop toward himself to get started right away. 

“Guess I’ll crack open some cans of chili.” Bobby made his way toward the cabinets. Cas, meanwhile, made his way upstairs without comment. It was understood that he was going to check on Dean. 

___________________________________________________________________ 

Cas carefully opened the bedroom door. A simple double bed and a dresser took up most of the space in the small room. Dean was laid on his stomach, hand under his pillow, likely on his firearm. His breathing was deep and steady, rather than the usual quickened pace of nightmares that plagued both him and his brother. Cas was just about to leave the room when Dean stirred and checked his watch, in much the same way his brother just had. 

“Shit.” He grumbled. “I fuckin’ wasted half the day.” 

“You needed the rest.” Cas replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you feeling well?” 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dean rubbed is eyes. “Really, good, actually.” Dean was surprised. He hadn’t expected to be so relaxed here, but he supposed decades of feeling safe in this house overrode any recent events. With the full arsenal and a hunter he trusted implicitly in the home, he always instinctively felt at ease here, ever since childhood. He always slept better at Bobby’s than anyplace else. 

“Sam is downstairs working on the coordinates.” Cas said. “We should assist him.” 

“Yeah.” Dean agreed, throwing off the blanket and heading toward the bedroom door. “Guess we should.” 

“You seem reluctant.” 

“Yeah, well, me and Sam have been in a bit of a rough patch.” Dean explained. “We’re actually gonna go our separate ways for a while after this case.” 

“Do you think that’s wise?” 

“Yeah.” Dean gave case a ‘stay out of it’ kind of look. “I do.” 

“I can’t help but notice that whenever you separate, things tend to go less than favorably, for both of you.” 

“Cas, I just can’t, okay?” Dean raised his voice. “I thought we could go on like it didn’t happen, but we can’t!” Dean took a breath and calmed himself. “It’s not forever. Just for a while. I need some space from him.” 

Cas looked to the ground. “I understand.” A short pause, then. “Do you also need some space from me, Dean?” 

Dean considered for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s different with you.” He knew it was a lame answer, but it was the best he could do. It was different with Cas. Maybe because Sam was his brother, and it was a different dynamic regarding trust. Or maybe because Cas was bonded to him now. Or perhaps it was because Dean felt somewhat of a camaraderie with Cas in the whole matter—that they both had been victimized to a certain degree. Both compelled against their will to complete the act. Whatever the reason, Dean felt less pleased with the idea of distancing himself from Cas. 

“Well, I should get down there.” Dean walked past Cas and down to the kitchen. 


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days were actually boring. Sam worked on the coordinates, which was really a one person kind of job. Dean and Bobby kept looking up ways to destroy or hide the thing, and Cas went through tomes of Christian lore that only he could translate. It was like working on a high school group project, with everyone at their separate tasks. Except there were no slackers in this bunch. Meals were mainly left to Bobby, who insisted it was safer to hunker down with canned goods than to venture outside the wards for takeout. 

Evenings, which would usually be beers and movie night at Bobby’s, became more isolated. Sam on the couch, Dean upstairs, and Bobby in his room. It was like living with roommates, rather than family. Dean felt somewhat responsible for that, like he should just get over it already for everyone else’s sake. He laid on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, wishing with everything that it was different. That he was different. 

“You’re awake.” Cas said suddenly, and Dean jumped, not having heard Cas enter the room. 

“Holy fuck, Cas!” Dean clutched his chest. “You’ve got to work on that!” 

“My apologies.” Cas replied. 

“So, still watching me sleep, huh?” Dean asked, smiling slightly. 

“It’s a difficult habit to break.” Cas admitted. “Particularly now, with more immediate danger present.” 

“We’re always in danger.” Dean said dismissively. 

“And I always watch you sleep.” 

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at that. 

“I was wondering, since you couldn’t sleep, if perhaps you would be interested in continuing what we started before.” Cas asked. 

“What?” 

“I would like to continue to get to know you. If you are willing.” 

“Oh, that. Right.” Dean had actually forgotten all about that. But now the memories came flooding back to him. Learning quirky things about each other, laughing at Cas’s responses. It had been…fun. 

“Sure. I’d like that.” Dean smiled. 

__________________________________________________ 

“I’m sorry, Dean, but I don’t understand why one would watch programming on a single species for an entire week.” 

“Because its SHARKS, Cas!” Dean gestured wildly. “SHARKS!” 

Both men were seated on the bed, passing one of Bobby’s many bottles of whiskey between them. 

“There is a plethora of sea life. It seems odd to focus so intently on only one genus.” 

“Oh, never mind!” Dean scoffed. “You just don’t get it.” 

“Why don’t other animals get the same air time?” Cas asked, head tilted in that curious way. “Butterfly week. Or bee week. I would watch bee week.” 

“Bee week? Do you even listen to yourself?” 

Then both men started laughing. And it felt good. Dean looked over at Cas, and he felt something stir inside him. 

_It’s just the hormones._ He told himself, even though what he was feeling wasn’t sexual at all. He allowed himself a long look at Cas’s eyes, his rare smile. His permanent bed head. 

“Dean? Is something wrong?” 

“Nah, Cas. Sorry.” Dean shook his head, a vain attempt to shake off unwanted thoughts. “Just got distracted for a minute there.” 

“Perhaps you should attempt to sleep again.” Cas suggested. “You are quite intoxicated.” 

“Yeah… yeah, I probably should.” Dean laid back on the bed. Cas lifted the covers over him. 

“Are…are you tucking me in?” Dean laughed. “What am I? Five?” 

Cas just smiled. Dean thought for a moment, then realized he hadn’t woken up without a blanket in several months. He used to kick them off all the time during his nightmares. 

Dean tried not to dwell on it. Your friend checking on you as you sleep, covering you back up…it was creepy. A creepy Cas thing he did because he didn’t understand human boundaries. 

Except it wasn’t really creepy. Not anymore. And all at once, Dean remembered Cas’s confession. 

_“I liked you. Loved you. Before.”_

And maybe it was the whiskey talking, but without even thinking Dean blurted out, “Cas, I’m sorry.” 

“Whatever for?” 

“I’m sorry that you love me.” And Dean knew it sounded stupid. 

“That is hardly your fault.” 

“I’m sorry it’s not different. I’m sorry I’m not different.” Dean said, wishing he could just stop talking. But he couldn’t. “You deserve…you deserve it to be different.” 

“I wanted you, Dean, but not like this. Never like this.” Cas’s voice was thick with unshed ears. “It is I who needs to apologize to you. Forever. And it still won’t be enough.” 

“You and Sam. It would be easier if I could just get over it. Just move on and let it go. And I just can’t.” Dean lifted his arm over his eyes. “I just can’t.” 

Cas sat down on the edge of the bed. “You do whatever you feel you need to, Dean. Sam and I will cope. We did this to you, not the other way around.” Cas couldn’t help but place a hand on Dean’s knee as he spoke. “Whatever I feel, whatever Sam is going through, it is a small matter compared to what you are enduring.” 

“This all happened because I was weak. All of it.” 

Cas sighed. “I will never understand the idea that showing emotion, or needing others is weak.” Cas pulled Dean’s arm from his face, looking him in the eyes. “Dean, opening yourself up to another person, allowing yourself to be vulnerable. That is actually strength.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve seen a lot of humanity, Dean.” Cas went on. “And time and again, the greatest things were birthed from humans allowing themselves to be raw.” 

There was a pause. Cas swallowed. 

“It isn’t fair that your biology has made the choice for you.” Cas finally said. “But needing someone, for whatever reason, isn’t weakness. And I will be here. Always.” 

Cas got off the bed and walked toward the door. The room was spinning, Dean’s heart was pounding, and he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Cas?” Dean asked, and Cas turned around, his hand on the doorknob. “Cas…please stay with me.” 

With the last shred of his sobriety, Dean moved his body a few inches over, turning on his side. Cas hesitated for a moment, then laid down next to his friend. He pulled the covers over both of them, then very gently spooned up behind Dean, their bodies not touching, but his arm draped very innocently around Dean’s waist. 

“Is this okay?” Cas asked. Dean nodded. 

_It’s just the hormones._ Dean repeated to himself. _It’s just the hormones._

___________________________________________________________________________________

__

It soon became part of the routine. Wake up, research, meals, then laying together in bed until Dean fell asleep. Dean tried not to read too much into it. It simply felt nice, and Dean just tried to leave it at that. He didn’t know how much of it was due to the bond, and how much was just him enjoying Cas. Hell, maybe he just needed a warm body next to him. The fact that warm body had only a few months ago done…No. He pushed all that from his mind and simply focused on the more important tasks at hand. 

They had been at Bobby’s almost a week when they finally heard it. 

“Yahtzee!” Sam exclaimed. 

“What did you find?” Bobby was right on top of him in a matter of seconds, Dean and Cas close behind, all surrounding the small laptop screen. 

“The Gila Cliff Dwellings.” Sam explained, showing them the map. “This projection is from a few hundred years ago, but it matches up.” 

“The what?” Dean asked. 

“The Gila Cliff Dwellings.” Sam repeated. “It’s an archaeological site in New Mexico.” 

“Hence the cylinder’s location.” Cas said. 

“I’m guessing so.” Sam went on. “It was occupied on and off around 1200 through 1400 A.D., right around the time of severe environmental upheaval.” 

“Meaning?” Dean asked. 

“What archaeologists call the ‘mini ice age.’ It basically got colder and drier. Cultures aggregated to certain locations for survival, and began to worship--” he pulled up a photo of a ceramic vessel on the screen. “A horned serpent. Similar to Queztalcoatl.” 

“And for those of us who aren’t up on horned serpents?” Dean prompted. 

“Well, there are a lot of different versions of the legend, but one claims that he inflicted self-injury to create entire worlds.” 

“Yummy.” 

“And one of the body parts he used to bring life was his tongue.” 

“That could be a metaphor for using the spoken word.” Cas said. 

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Sam agreed. 

“So they pray to this angel pretending to be a god, and he breathes more angels into existence to get them through the rough times?” Dean summarized. 

“But if that’s the case, then where are these angels now?” Bobby asked. 

“That is a good question.” Cas replied. 

“So what’s the plan?” Dean asked. “Just zap on over there, find this guy, and give him the coordinates?” 

“I don’t think he will be easy to find.” Cas said. “Also, we will likely be followed. Angels have been staking out the house, waiting for us to venture out.” 

“What?!” Dean exclaimed. “Angels staking the place? And you didn’t think to share this information?” 

“I thought it was understood.” Cas shrugged. “We all knew they would be here.” 

“Well, maybe an update next time?” Dean was clearly annoyed. 

“And that brings us to our next problem.” Bobby said. “We need supplies.” 

“I’m the logical choice.” Cas said. 

“You’re not going alone.” Dean responded automatically. 

“Well, if you think the two of you are going without me, you’ve got another thing coming.” Sam stood up. “I’m going with you.” 

“Look, someone has to stay here and hold down the fort with Bobby.” Dean reasoned. 

“And who says I’m staying?” Bobby piped up. The other three looked at him. “What? I ain’t no housewife. I’m tired of always staying here.” 

“We can’t all go.” Dean sighed. 

“Let’s draw straws.” Sam suggested. 

“No!” Dean had a sudden edge to his voice. “I’m going with Cas. Period. This is not up for debate.” 

Neither Sam nor Bobby dared challenge the fierce protectiveness in Dean’s voice. It was beyond his previous ‘I’m not leaving my friend’ vibe. It was something almost dark. Something primal. 

He was protecting his mate. 

____________________________________________________________________________________ 

Holy oil. Check. 

Lighters. Check. 

Double-checking that the lighters work on the first damn try. Check 

Angel blades. Check. 

And…shopping list. Check. 

Both Dean and Cas donned a large backpack. Dean concealed a couple of twenties in his pocket. The plan was simple. Cas would transport them to a grocery store two states over (hopefully buying time before the angels found them). It was after hours, so they would grab what they could, Dean leaving the money at the cash register. Cas estimated about 10-15 minutes before the other angels would be able to identify their location. 

“Good luck.” Sam gave his brother a hesitant hug, and Cas a shoulder squeeze. 

“Don’t get yourselves killed.” Bobby said gruffly. 

Then they vanished. 


	6. Chapter 6

Dean and Cas appeared in Bobby’s kitchen only ten minutes later, Dean clutching a bleeding Cas to his side, holding him up. Sam and Bobby were ready, Sam helping Dean maneuver Cas to the couch to lay down, and Bobby grabbing the first aid kit they had at the ready. 

“They were waiting?” Bobby asked, rhetorically. Of course they were waiting. 

“It was a full-scale ambush.” Dean replied. “At least twenty angels. I told Cas to grab what he could while I held them off, but then the idiot--” 

“You would have died, Dean.” Cas calmly cut him off as Bobby cleaned his wound. 

“I had that blonde bitch.” Dean said dismissively. “But Cas here decided to jump between me and the blade.” 

“It’s only a shoulder wound.” Cas acted tough, but he seemed weaker than usual. 

“Stitches?” Bobby asked. 

“Not necessary.” Cas replied. “I will heal on my own. It will just take more time than usual, as I was hit with an angel blade.” 

So some bandaging and a sling seemed to suffice. 

“Here, help me get him to our room.” Dean said, ignoring the fact he just called it _our_ room. Neither Bobby nor Sam blinked at this, and helped Cas up the stairs and into the double bed. Though the wound was in his shoulder, his entire body seemed weakened, likely due to the damage to his grace. 

“You should get some sleep.” Dean said, covering Cas with the blanket. He couldn’t help but notice their reversed roles. 

“I don’t sleep, Dean.” 

“Right. Well, just get some rest.” Dean stood there, feeling like an idiot. He didn’t want to sit and stare at Cas, but also didn’t feel right leaving him like this. 

Cas looked like he was about to protest, but his pain seemed to get the better of him. 

“Very well.” Cas noticed Dean’s awkward stance. Like Dean didn’t know what to do or where to go. “Perhaps…perhaps you would like to stay with me?” Then Cas added the hurried explanation, “Our bond may actually assist in the healing process.” 

“Really?” 

“I’ve done some research on the subject.” Cas explained. “The presence of a mate can lower blood pressure and boost the immune system.” 

“Well, who am I to argue with science?” Dean gave a little smile before lying down next to Cas, both of staring at the ceiling, shoulder to shoulder. There was a long pause. Cas hesitantly lifted his head slightly and laid it on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s hand went to Cas’s hair, carding through it absent-mindedly. Indeed, both men let out an involuntary sigh. Dean felt himself relax. He had a moment of anxiety—was it the hormones? Simple enjoyment of another person’s presence? Something more? 

Then he just decided to stop thinking about it. Whatever it was, it was nice. And dammit, he deserved to just feel nice for a while without analyzing it. 

It wasn’t long before Dean fell asleep. And, despite not needing to, Cas found himself dozing off as well, the warmth and contentment enveloping him in a comfortable cocoon. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________ 

Sam and Bobby went through the bags Dean and Cas had brought home. Despite the short trip, they had done quite well. Dean’s backpack predictably held jerky, meats, hand-held pies, liquor, and 8 loose bottles of beer. Sam couldn’t help but smile at the bunch of bananas, clearly obtained for his benefit. And…strawberries? Sam shrugged at this, placing them in the crisper. 

Thankfully, Cas had been a little more practical. Toilet paper, fresh produce, aspirin, soap, milk, slightly squashed bread, and eggs (though a few were cracked). Overall, not a bad haul. 

They put the groceries away silently. 

“I suspect they both need a bit of shut eye.” Bobby finally said, in reference to the fact that Dean hadn’t come back downstairs. 

“Yeah.” Sam replied. 

Another long pause. Something was eating at Sam. Bobby could tell. But he simply let Sam stew a while, getting his thoughts together. 

“I’m horrible, aren’t I?” Sam asked, barely above a whisper. 

“No.” Bobby replied, almost automatically. The idea that either of his boys could be truly horrible people was preposterous. Misguided, yes. Short-sighted? Definitely. Just plain idjits? Absolutely. But to consider them bad people, at their core? 

No. Absolutely not. 

“It’s all wrong now. And it’s all my fault.” 

“Listen to me.” Bobby said, eyes locked on Sam’s. “You are not a bad person. This whole damn situation was snake-bit from the start. What you did wasn’t right. Far from it. But all things considered, it wasn’t wrong, either. There isn’t some damn handbook to deal with shit like this. And you and Dean…well, that’s the kind of love that breeds crazy. It don’t always look like love. But it is. And that’s the truth.” 

“Bobby…how can we go on like this?” Sam’s voice was thick as he swallowed back a sob. 

“You just do.” Bobby said. “It just goes on. Life goes on.” It sounded trite, but it was all he had. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Now that they knew where they might be able to find Radueriel, the question became how to get from point A to point B. It took Adriel and his followers less than ten minutes to find them last time they ventured out. And they would need a lot more time to find Radueriel’s actual location. Possibly days. 

Also, Cas was injured, and it would likely take a couple of days for him to heal completely. So that meant they were sitting ducks again. Their days were once again filled with research, planning, and whiskey. It seemed less awkward than it had been. There was still tension in the air, but it had eased. Dean felt less anger, though shame still shot through him on occasion, especially when he thought too hard on Cas. 

When the angel blade had stuck Cas, Dean had felt his insides twist up. The only other time he had felt terror like that was when Sam had died. Now that the three of them were safe again at Bobby’s, Dean felt more at ease. The immediate threat still loomed over them, but Dean could push that aside. 

They were all safe for now. Cas was safe. He was recovering. The blade didn’t kill him, and he was here and solid and currently laying next to Dean, gently embracing so as to avoid harming his injured shoulder. 

And Dean didn’t care anymore. He still felt shame and sadness at what had occurred, but he no longer cared what his feelings for Cas meant. Was it just the bond? Was it something more? If he was being totally honest with himself, he had always had stronger-than-mere-friendship feelings for the angel. But whatever had happened, however they got here, the simple fact was they were here now. And these feelings existed, for whatever reason. So Dean was simply going to learn to live with them. 

Some part of himself wondered if that was defeat. Just acceptance. And if that was really okay. The fighter in him still wanted to feel that anger toward Sam and Cas. He wanted to feel resentment and sadness and loss. And he did. But it had been dulled. With each passing day, he felt less anger. 

Perhaps this is what they mean by time healing wounds. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________ 

There seemed to be some truth to what Cas had said about the presence of a mate assisting in the healing process. Within twelve hours, he was already moving his shoulder. It was stiff, and painful, but he could move it. 

They were seated around the table, all of them researching Radueriel. Mostly it was dead ends. As Cas looked up from the text he was attempting to decipher from a strange Enochian dialect, he caught a glimpse of something. Sam was holding the cylinder at eye level, lazily looking it over as he had done many times over. 

The light had hit it just right, and a faint, whispy tendril of incandescence shone for a split second. 

“Grace.” Cas murmured, lurching forward and grabbing the cylinder from Sam’s hand. 

“What?” Dean and Sam asked simultaneously. 

“It’s grace.” Cas ran his hand over the artifact as though reading faint Braille. “I didn’t feel it at first. It’s so faint.” 

“How can there by grace in that thing?” Dean asked. 

“As you know, Grace can be ripped from us.” Cas replied. “And it appears someone has actually fashioned the gilding on this tube with grace. It’s--” Cas gave a sudden jolt of surprise. 

“What is it?” Sam asked. 

“I do believe this artifact is gilded with a portion of angel wings.” Cas looked somewhat nauseated at this realization. 

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. 

“Why?” Bobby chimed in, pouring himself another whiskey. 

“Yes, I am sure.” Cas answered. “And I don’t know why anyone would do such a thing.” 

Cas stared down at the artifact with a mixture of horror and intrigue. 

“Bad, huh?” Dean asked. 

“Imagine your reaction to books bound in human skin. Then multiply that reaction.” Cas replied. “I can’t fathom what one could gain that would warrant such abhorrence. But we could probably ask the angel to whom the wings belonged.” 

“You mean summon him?” Dean asked. 

“It should be quite simple.” Cas answered. “A part of him is already inside the wards. It should be a rather easy, bringing the rest of him.” 

“I know that, Cas.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I meant do we _want_ to summon some unknown angel here? Whoever those feathers belonged to could be working for Adriel. Or worse.” 

“The angel would be greatly outnumbered.” Cas said simply. “And the information could prove invaluable.” 

“He’s got a point, Dean.” Bobby said. “It’s four to one, and we have all the anti-angel supplies we could need.” 

“So what are we waiting for?” Sam stood up and headed toward the supply closet. “Let’s do this.” 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________ 


	7. Chapter 7

It only took about half an hour to have the summoning spell at the ready, complete with a circle of holy oil and a lighter handy. It was like clockwork. Cas (with a look of disgust) took a knife to the gilding, shredding off a small piece. He began the spell in perfect, unbroken Enochian. Bobby and Sam stood on opposite ends of the holy oil circle, gripping angel blades. As Cas finished the spell, Dean waited with a lighter to the ground. The moment he saw a flicker of movement within the circle, he lit the oil. 

The unknown angel was clearly fighting the summoning, or else the warding was making things difficult. He faded in and out a few times before his presence was firmly established. He had dark skin, shoulder-length hair, and sharp, proud features that clearly distinguished him as Native American. While Sam, Dean, and Bobby regarded the angel with apprehension and curiosity, Cas had a look of utter shock. As did the angel in the flames. 

“Castiel?” the angel asked. Cas gaped open-mouthed a few seconds before responding. 

“Radueriel?” 

“Well, it’s been centuries.” Radueriel bowed in greeting. “I am so grateful it is you who has summoned me, brother.” 

“How did this happen to you?” Cas asked, concerned. “Why would this artifact have your…your wings? Ripped from you, melted down?” Cas looked almost like he was about to vomit with the prospect of it. 

“I trusted the wrong person.” Radueriel looked to the ground, saddened. “From what I understand, you can empathize.” 

“Yes.” Cas nodded gravely. “I can.” 

“I would gladly explain to you, my brother.” Radueuriel said. “But please—the wards, the damage to my grace—it has all taken its toll. I’m afraid the holy oil is too much. Release me.” 

Sam and Dean exchanged panicked, apprehensive looks, but Cas nodded calmly. 

“Release him.” Cas said. “He will not harm us.” 

Sam, Dean, and Bobby all looked to each other for confirmation. They seemed to reach a wordless understanding. Without lowering their blades, Bobby and Dean began to douse the holy fire in water, extinguishing it. Sam remained completely focused on Radueriel, his gaze almost predatory while the others were distracted. 

But Radueriel made no sudden movements. They all stood there for a moment, ready to strike if necessary. 

“May I sit down?” He asked. Sam, Dean, and Bobby all looked to one another, then gave some shrugs and nods. 

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Bobby said. They all made their way to the living room, Radueriel and Cas sitting on the sofa, the others standing around them, guard up. 

“I—I don’t even know where to begin.” Cas looked at Radueriel in wonderment. “What happened to you, all those years ago? How did this artifact come to be?” 

“As you can guess, after Father left all those years ago, I lost his protection.” Radueriel said with the tone of beginning quite a tale. “While he was there, he alone dictated when I gave life to new angels. It felt…amazing. At his side as he described those brothers and sisters I was to help him create. My breath and my word breathing life into them. To serve him so intimately, so importantly. It was my true purpose.” Radueriel looked to the ground, tears escaping. 

“When he left, the other angels all wanted me.” He continued. “The fighting began. You remember--” Cas nodded “—and I was no longer seen as a creative being. I was no longer respected. I simply became a weapon to be obtained. I panicked, ready to run. Then he found me.” 

“Adriel?” Cas asked. 

“Yes.” Radueriel sniffed, looking up at the others. “He offered me protection, promising to never use me for my power. We had known each other for years, and we were…” 

“Friends?” Dean asked. 

“No.” Radueriel replied, his voice low with shame. “We were…so much more. He was my brother, more so than the other angels. The bond we shared was stronger than any other I have ever experienced.” 

Dean grunted in understanding. 

“It was just the two of us for several years. Addy and I were inseparable. The adventures we had.” The angel smiled fondly at the memory. “We were so happy. Until…” 

“Until you weren’t.” Sam finished gently. Radueriel nodded. 

“He asked me to do the unthinkable. To make him an army. I said no, of course. He attacked. I didn’t stand a chance. I thought he would merely kill me. But instead he took some of my feathers.” 

Cas looked to the side and slightly back to where Radueriel indicated, to something only the two of them could see. To the missing feathers. Cas looked sickened, gently laying a comforting hand on the other angel’s knee. Radueriel cleared his throat. 

“After that, he showed me the cylinder. There were twelve coordinates on it. Most of them in uninhabitable places. The middle of oceans, the tops of mountains.” 

“Barren deserts.” Sam said. Radueriel nodded. 

“The Cliff Dwellings were the most hospitable of the locations. He--” the angel faltered for a moment, remembering the horrifying moment. “He gilded the cylinder with my feathers, the most sacred and powerful part of my grace. I was bound to those coordinates, forever. I could never go anywhere else. Except to the cylinder itself, which he kept with him at all times. But not for long. Eventually word of the cylinder got out, and it was stolen, bartered, and otherwise used as a bargaining chip. I was a mere bargaining chip. Eventually, I managed to swipe it with the help of another angel. An archangel known for his mastery of tricks and illusions.” 

“Gabriel?” Sam and Dean exclaimed simultaneously. 

“Yes.” Radueriel replied, somewhat surprised they had guessed. “He shared in my heartache regarding the fighting. He helped me get the cylinder, then stored it someplace safe. I don’t know where.” 

“He’s dead now, so the hiding place may have died with him.” Sam said. Radueriel looked stricken by the news of Gabe’s death. “Looks like it was found by some humans. We found it causing trouble in New Mexico.” 

“I am very sorry to hear about Gabriel. He was quite a character.” Radueriel gave a sad little chuckle. “Yes, without an angel present, the artifact could become quite volatile.” 

“Lucky you were here, then Cas.” Dean gave his angel a little smile. 

“So what do you plan to do now?” Bobby asked. 

“If you would be so kind as to give me the cylinder, I would then be able to go anywhere.” Radeuriel said. 

“And what about Adriel?” Cas asked. “We are not able to fend him off.” 

Radueriel thought for a moment. “I will talk to him.” 

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Dean said. “I mean, we can’t protect you. And he could just grab that thing from you again.” 

“But at least he would have seen me with it, which will pull him away from you. He will have no reason to come after you once he knows you no longer possess it.” 

“But why bother talking?” Sam asked. “Just let him see you with it, then vanish. Go someplace new.” 

“I…I can’t do that.” Radueriel said. “I must speak with him.” 

“Why?” Sam and Bobby asked in unison. 

“It has been centuries since I last saw him.” Radueriel had a softness in his voice. “In spite of it all, I wish to speak with him, at least once more. I…” 

“You still love him.” Dean said. The others all looked at him. “In spite of it all. He’s still your brother.” 

“Yes.” Radueriel inclined his head, tears in his eyes. “No matter how this ends, I must try. At least once more.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Radueriel walked boldly from the house and past the many vehicles in the salvage yard. 

“My brother!” Adriel cried out. “It has been too long.” 

Radueriel continued to walk toward his brother, cylinder clearly in hand, stopping only ten yards from him. 

“I see you’ve found it.” Adriel smiled. “And now you believe you’re free.” 

“Yes, now you can call off your attack on these people.” Radueriel motioned toward the house. “They are not a part of this.” 

“Naturally.” Adriel gave a little bow. “I never wanted them. Only you. Imagine it, brother. You and me, together. My strategy, your gift. An unstoppable army. The two of us, side by side, ruling Heaven.” 

“You now I can’t do that.” Radueriel said solemnly. “If we could talk alone. Call off your guard.” 

Adriel hesitated. 

“You owe me that.” Radueriel’s eyes never left his brother’s. “Please, Addy.” 

With a wave of his hand, all the other angels left. 

Radueriel approached Adriel cautiously, but did not back down. 

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Dean asked Cas. 

“No.” Cas replied. “They’ve muffled their conversation.” 

“They’ve what?” Dean asked. 

“They’ve used their grace to mask their conversation from all but each other.” Cas explained. “It’s an old technique.” 

Radueriel and Adriel continued to speak, looking mostly solemn, though occasionally tilting their head upward with a small laugh. They went on like that for about twenty minutes, before Adriel sank to his knees, his brother following. They held each other for a long time, Adriel’s head tucked beneath Radueriel’s chin. And then, they were gone. 

Everyone in the house was quiet for a beat. 

“Well, I sure hope they haven’t gone off to create an army.” Bobby grunted. 

For some reason, everyone else laughed. 

“Somehow, I don’t think so.” Cas smiled. 

“Neither do I.” Dean agreed. 

____________________________________________________________________________________________ 

It had been a long day. They all decided to go their separate ways. 

“Good work today, boys.” Bobby grunted on his way to his bedroom, mumbling something about being “too old for this shit.” 

Sam stretched out on the couch, putting in his ear buds. 

“Hey, Sammy?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah?” Sam took out the buds. 

Dean just stood there for a few beats, then gave his head a little shake. 

“Never mind.” He gave his brother the smallest of smiles. “Goodnight, Sammy.” 

“Goodnight, Dean.” Sam smiled back. 

Dean made his way upstairs. Cas was waiting for him, sitting on the bed in his usual t-shirt and shorts. Dean shucked his own clothes until he was down to the same, the casual routine they had developed over the last week. 

“Did you talk to Sam?” Cas asked. 

“No.” Dean answered, sliding into bed next to him. “I tried to. But I just didn’t know what to say.” 

“Do you…forgive him?” 

Dean thought for a long moment. “I don’t know.” He said. “But…” _But I love him._ Dean nearly said, but stopped himself. “But he’s my brother.” 

He settled for that. There was something hanging in the air. The unasked question. Dean waited. But he knew Cas would likely not ask. He was too afraid of the answer. 

_Do you forgive me?_

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long time. 

_Yes._ Dean said in his mind, willing Cas to read it. And suddenly, Dean didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care that he was hurt. He didn’t care that hormones might be partly to blame. He didn’t care that Cas was annoying, infuriating, and _male._ And he didn’t care what that made him. 

He wanted Cas. 

There was no flush or dizziness his heats usually brought on. There was no alcohol in his system. Sane and sober, Dean leaned into Cas and pressed their lips together. 

And God, it was _good._

Cas hesitantly responded to the kiss. They slowly opened their mouths up to each other, Cas tilting his head just so to allow better access. The kiss deepened exquisitely. Not feverishly, but in a long, languid way. 

They were in no hurry. Dean gently traced Cas’s jawline with his fingertips, down his neck and chest, eventually tugging at the hem of his shirt. 

Cas looked at Dean, somewhat puzzled. “Do you need me?” He asked, knowing they were at least a week from Dean’s heat. 

“No, Cas,” Dean replied. “I…” Cas could tell the next words were difficult for Dean. 

“Cas, I don’t need you. I want you.” 

Cas bathed in this moment for a few seconds. The moment Dean’s barriers completely crumbled between them. 

“I want you, too.” And lord help him if Cas’s eyes weren’t staring right into his soul. “Anything you want, Dean. You lead.” __

It felt a bit odd. Perhaps even unnatural. But that was the point—this wasn’t governed by nature, or instinct. It was purely desire. Dean’s desire for Cas, and Cas’s desire for Dean. Their biological roles would not rule them. Their free will would. This time, they would _choose._

Dean positioned himself on top of Cas, feeling strong, powerful, and in control for the first time in such a context. Cas laid back, feeling like he didn’t need to be in control for once. He gave himself over to his partner’s whims, without a single worry about overstepping his boundaries, or overpowering his partner needlessly. 

Dean was consenting. With every kiss, with every thrust, he was giving himself willingly to Cas. And Cas gave himself willingly in return. 

“Good?” Dean asked, breathless between thrusts. 

“Good.” Cas confirmed, gently stroking Dean’s jawline. 

It wasn’t the rushed, frenzied sex of mating. It was a slow, steady build to climax. Dean took the time to relish the small noises Cas made, the hitches in his breath and the almost-groans at the back of his throat. Cas took the time to memorize Dean’s face—the patterns of his irises, the tiny freckles across his nose, the faint scar on his forehead, likely from some hunting mishap. 

Dean angled his hips differently and Cas’s eyes flew wide open as he let out a little scream. Dean chuckled, the vibration shooting through both their bodies. 

“Found it.” He smiled down at Cas, who gasped again as Dean thrusted. He loved watching Cas slowly come undone beneath him. The angel let go of all inhibitions, gently rocking against his partner and repeating something in Enochian as he climaxed. 

Dean was close behind, emptying himself into Cas with a moan before collapsing on top of him, completely spent. 

They laid like that, neither really sure how long. Eventually, Dean rolled off Cas and used his shirt to clean them off. With a small push, Dean wordlessly prompted Cas to turn on his side, then spooned up behind him, pulling the blanket over them as he did so. 

“Dean, I--” 

“Shhh.” Dean cut him off. _I forgive you. I love you. I should feel anger and shame and hate toward you, and I do sometimes, but all of that is overshadowed by how much I love you. How much I’ve always loved you._

But Dean couldn’t say that. So he just placed his lips close to Cas’s ear. 

“It’s all good.” He murmured, giving his ear a small brushstroke of a kiss for good measure. 

Then he held his angel close as he slowly dozed off. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________ 

They sat around the table, a real meal for the first time in ages. Dean had made his famous burgers from scratch, complete with real lettuce and tomato, and Bobby had brought out the beer. Dean had scoffed at the idea of a fruit salad at first, but Sam’s offering to the meal was actually really good. 

They continued to sit at the table long after the meal was over, enjoying a whiskey. Not completely drunk, but lightly buzzed and warm as they shared stories. Bobby was in the middle of a hilarious reminisce regarding Rufus and a wendigo hunt when Dean felt it. 

First he looked to Bobby, who was trying not to laugh as he continued his story. Then to Cas, who looked fondly back at him, eyes filled with the same undying loyalty as always. Then to Sam. This was the hardest of all, but as Dean looked at Sam, he knew that, despite everything, they would always be side by side. For all his faults, and all the recent events that seemed unforgivable, Dean still knew that Sam would always be his brother. And that wasn’t merely a biological distinction. 

His dad, his brother, and his mate. All laughing. All talking. Still standing. Still family. 

They all had rough roads ahead. And Dean knew he would still have sleepless nights and pain from that day so many months ago. But for the first time, Dean felt it. 

It was going to mend. Not all at once, and not completely. It wasn’t good, or even okay. But it was almost okay. 

Dean reached over and took Cas’s hand, not caring about what anyone else thought, not even caring what he thought of himself. However they got here, they were here now. And the feel of Cas’s hand in his, Sam and Bobby not even glancing twice, the natural way it all felt—that was almost okay. 

And given their lifestyle, almost okay was the best any of them could hope for. 


End file.
